Hard Knock Life
by Dreaming of Starry Skies
Summary: "Say Ross, when you picture Phoebe living on the street, is she surrounded by the entire cast of Annie?" We all know that one of the 6 had a slightly different life to the others. Exactly what happened when Phoebe was living on the streets?
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Friends and I never will.**

* * *

Phoebe Buffay sat on the step, listening the the sirens all around her and her sister arguing with the policeman. She felt completely numb.

Someone, she wasn't sure who, had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and she was greatful for the warmth it provided. She felt like she should be crying at this moment- hell she'd been crying when that stupid deer's mother died just a few days before, but no tears were falling.

In her field of vision she could see the snowman she had made, maybe two hours previously. Ursula thought herself too old and mature but Phoebe had enjoyed herself.

Randy, who hadn't even looked in her direction for months had came and helped, I had been a good day.

Until she went inside to get a glass of water, she would have liked something warm but ther mother couldn't afford gas, even with both her and Ursula having a part time job. They had a little but their mother had insisted in saving it.

Now she knew what for.

In a rare display of twin telepathy she and Ursula had entered the kitchen at the same time, her through the backdoor and Ursula from their small living room.

Inside the kitchen her mother had sat in front of the oven, unmoving, a strange smell of burning had filled the air. Ursula had screamed but she just stood there, her curly hair falling into her eyes as if to protect her.

They hadn't got a working phone in the house, after their stepfather went to prison all the money went to rent so there wasn't electric, but Phoebe had went to the telephone box almost right opposite and called the police.

She felt movement on her left side and she turned to see Ursula, a weirdly serious expression on her face. "They're going to take us into foster care. We don't have any living family," she said. "They've found a temporary place for us,"

She didn't offer Phoebe any words of comfort and Phoebe didn't offer any back. What really was there to say. "I'm sorry our mom shoved her head in the oven?"

Slowly, it began getting dark, all around her people were moving but Phoebe just sat there, as unmoving as the house itself. She didn't know how many hours had passed when someone tapped her on the shoulder. "It's okay for you to fetch all your stuff now," an older, unsympathetic policeman said.

She walked into the house, avoiding the kitchen, and went across the hall to her and Ursula's shared bedroom. She didn't know why but she put her mother's skull in her bag. Maybe it wasn't an appropriate message at this time but she could think rationally enough to know she'd want it later on.

She was distantly aware that Ursula was also in the room, packing up her own clothes but her brain refused to let her say anything. She licked her dry lips but no words came out.

It felt dreamlike but a sharp pinch on her wrist told her this wasn't a dream. This was her life now.

Together, the twins left the house and walked into the police car.

Tomorrow, there would be interrogations, but tonight they were allowed to sleep.

* * *

Phoebe looked at the bacon and began to eat it. It was the morning and somehow, after lying awake for hours, she had gotten to sleep. It was the first time in her life she and Ursula had slept in different rooms and it had been too silent. She was left with only her own thoughts to keep her company.

It was 8 am and in 10 minutes they would be packed out into the car and taken to the police station and asked questions like a criminal on trial. She still hadn't been able to say a word, which was unlike her. Normally she wiukd always be talking, singing or humming.

* * *

"How old are you?"

Phoebe wasn't sure. Somewhere along the line her age had gotten muddled up. The year she was born was never important and her school year had been messed up from the years she had been homeschooled on the barge. There had been about 5 other kids, some a few years younger and others a few years older.

"13," she finally said. It was the best guess she could give. Her throat felt sore, it may have only been a day, maybe not even 24 hours, but it felt like a lifetime. She wanted so badly to grieve but she didn't know how to.

"What is your birthdate?" The man barely achknowledged her falter. He likely got the same answer from Ursula.

"Febuary 16th,"

She purposely omitted the year, not sure how to answer.

"Were you aware that your mother was dealing drugs?"

That felt like a kick in the stomach. Phoebe leaned over, and threw up. She knew that was what her stepfather had gone to prison for but she hadn't realised her mother was selling them too. She stared at the partly digested bacon and began to feel nauseous again.

Someone walked her her out of the room to who knows where and with a swimming mind, Phoebe vowed to never eat meat again for as long as she lived.

* * *

"Thank you for coming."

She had said that phrase what seemed like a million times. Over the last two weeks she and Ursula had planned their mother's funeral. Lily's ashes were on the pedestal.

Finally it seemed like everyone had arrived. She sat down next to Ursula and the service began.

* * *

"They've found a care home able to take on two teens at last. you'll be leaving in the morning." their social worker told Phoebe and Ursula. Ursula gave the woman a tense smile and she left the room.

Phoebe knew she couldn't stay in one of those places. There were kids at school that lived in one and they always looked so defeated. She couldn't let that happen to herself.

She began to quickly pack her bag again, she hadn't unpacked it knowing that the place was only temporary. Everything seemed to be temporary.

Ursula watched her with a strange look on her face- the face that looked identical to her own. She had often hated Ursula, for breaking her things, for stealing her friends, and even if it was an accident, for breaking her collarbone.

But she couldn't feel hate anymore.

"Phoebe?" She turned around to see Ursula looking like she was going to say something. To persuade her to stay.

"What?"

Ursula looked conflicted, her hand reached out to her pocket.

"Nothing, sorry."

* * *

Phoebe waited in the bathroom until she was quite sure everyone was asleep. She went into the pot of change they kept and stole about 20 dollars. She felt bad about it but she needed the bus fare.

She didn't know what would happen, just that she had to leave. Something in her head told her and her mother always told her to follow her intuition.

* * *

She waited for for the bus, thankful there was still one going this late at night and stepped on.

"Single to New York please."

* * *

 **Hey! So I probably have some errors as I am neither American nor from the 1980's. I also have never lost more than a Grandparent.**

 **I love Friends and Phoebe is my favourite character. I feel that this plotline is an interesting one that's rarely explored. I've already started to plan out exactly what will happen and whilst for now it will just focus on when she began living on the streets to when she moved in with Monica I may change it to going to where the series begins. I'll try to make it as canon compliant as possible but if I miss anything out or contradict anything, I do apologise.**

 **To get the review rolling (pause for canned laughter.) I'll ask a question: Who is your favourite of the main 6 and why?**


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a month since she left home and Phoebe was beginning to lose hope of ever feeling warm again. The winter of New York was unforgiving and no one seemed to want to spare a glance at the girl with the messy hair and hollowed out eyes.

She wouldn't blame them for thinking she was going to spend them on drugs. She had always wanted to look different from Ursula, but not like seemed to have aged more in one month than most people did in years.

She was becoming starving and she could feel her body getting weaker each day. Whilst she had full access to water, it wasn't always clean and she wasn't sure how safe it was to drink.

Phoebe didn't regret her decision though. Anything had to be better than living in foster care. Even if she had a warm bed and food, it wasn't worth losing what little life she had left in her.

Phoebe spent most of her days walking up and down the narrow streets in an desperate effort to get warm. She would go into shops and stay in them as long as possible before she started getting odd looks, but when they closed for the night she was forced to stay anywhere she could find. Most nights she would only get a few hours sleep before being harassed by a cop or some drunk.

Very quickly, she realised that if no one would give her money she would have to take it herself. She went to the only place she could think of where everyone would be too weak to defend themselves- even against her. The comic book shop.

She picked up a stray pipe with trembling hands and held it tightly. It was too heavy for her but she was desperate. The place wasn't busy, but it was a whole hour before it was deserted by everyone except one.

A boy, maybe the same age as her or a few years younger. He had dark hair and a dreamy smile but what really caught Phoebe's eye was his backpack. It was so full it had what seemed to be a magazine sticking out of it. Maybe, even if he didn't have much money there would be something she could sell.

She really didn't want to do this. It wasn't fair on him or her but she was starving. He would get over it. His clothes were better than most of the kids at her old school and he looked happy and healthy.

Swallowing the unreasonable anger she went over to him. At first he didn't notice her, too caught up in his own world. Holding the pipe in one hand, trying not to let her arm drag, she grabbed his ear and squeezed.

"Give me your money, punk!" She said, trying to make herself look as ferocious as possible. He looked absolutely terrified, as he handed her his backpack, his hands were shaking. She dropped the pipe she was holding and legged it, trying to stop the urge to cry.

* * *

She sat on the steps of the library, too nervous to actually go inside. She had seen countless homeless people like herself forcibly dispelled and she wasn't eager to be the next.

In her hands was the backpack, her sickly prize. On the front was a too cheery sticker with the words 'Geology rocks' in bold writing.

Hands shaking, due undid the zip. There was something that looked like a hand drawn comic book but she ignored it. Instead she took out the money.

To some, it wouldn't be much, 50 dollars, but she'd never had so much money in her life. Instantly, Phoebe began planning what she'd buy with it: A guitar, some school books, a warmer coat, before the more rational part of her brain came out. This would last her several months if she only bought cheap food, possibly more if she only got things that were reduced.

She stuffed the money in her pocket and continued looking in the bag. There was a half filled water bottle which she downed in little more than seconds. It may have been slightly unsanitary but Phoebe was beyond the point of caring.

She took the comic book in her hands and began to read through it. Despite the boy being possibly younger than her, she didn't understand all the scientific terms.

Taking a deep breath she walked into the library, keeping her head down and to the science section. She opened up a book amd began to read through it.

* * *

"Do you have any cigarettes?"

Phoebe looked up from her shop doorway to see a large pale man standing above her. She shut her mouth tight and glared.

"I said, do you have any cigarettes?"

He looked as if he was about to get violent so she quickly shook her head.

"Okay cool!" He said, his mood rapidly changing.

Having grown up with people who would do this constantly, Phoebe just smiled at him, albeit nervously.

"Do you want to have a cigarette?"

Again, Phoebe shook her head, hoping he would just leave her alone. Instead, he just sat down. "Imma stick with you until my job starts!" He said. "I clean windshields."

Phoebe wasn't sure what to say, but the man seemed as if he wasn't going to kill her, and by the looks of his skinny wrists, even if he was, she could take him.

Besides, she was a social person by nature and it was nice to have company.

 **If anyone has any constructive feedback, it would be really appreciated. Any comments would be to be honest. I'm lonely and hopeless and desperate for love.**


End file.
